


Overprotectiveness and a Conversation on Suitability

by Diary



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Fail, Bottle Episode Fic, Canon Character of Color, Female Protagonist, Friendship, Hellhound Jordan Parrish, Hospital Setting, Morally Ambiguous Character, Non-Explicit Injury, POV Character of Color, POV Melissa McCall, Post-Canon, Queer Character, Unrequited, Unrequited Jordan Parrish/Sheriff Stilinski - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 19:05:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12139089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: “I need you to try your best to ignore the flaming deputy in the corner. That’s Parrish, only not exactly. Just help me focus on Sheriff Stilinski.” Complete.





	Overprotectiveness and a Conversation on Suitability

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Teen Wolf.

Melissa’s first instinct is irritation.

The humans and non-humans of Beacon Hills have mutually decided the former is going to wilfully ignore the fact the latter exists, and the latter is fine with this. Whether she agrees with this strategy or not, it’s been more-or-less working.

Parrish bursting through the hospital doors in his hellhound form is a threat to the extremely fragile peace the town is experiencing.

Then, she sees the wounded Sheriff Stilinski in his arms, and tampering down the fear _god above, don’t let him be dead_ , she pages, “Dr Geyer to- Just find me, now.”

“Stay back, everyone,” she orders. “It’s okay. This man is a deputy. The sheriff has been hurt. We’re handling it. That’s right, back to your seats, no one is getting hurt here.”

Praying the people who just scampered out the door will be alright, she finally gets over, and she’s relieved to see Sheriff Stilinski is breathing. She’s less relieved to see his arm has been practically hacked off, but thankfully, someone did apply correct first aid before he was carried from God knows where by a hellhound. Hopefully, the arm and its functionality can be saved.

“Parrish?”

Orange eyes stare emotionlessly into hers, and she knows it’s not Deputy Parrish she’s dealing with.

She takes a small step closer. “I’m Melissa McCall. Sheriff Stilinski and I are friends. I’m also a nurse, and I’ve called Liam’s father. Werewolf Liam? His father is a doctor here. If you’ll follow me, we’ll help him.”

A curt nod is his response.

“Good. This way.”

She finds an empty room. “Set him on the bed, please.”

He does.

“Okay. I need to check his vitals.”

Moving back, he keeps his eyes on both of them.

The sheriff is unconscious, but his breathing and heart rate are within acceptable parameters given the trauma.

“Melissa?”

Relieved Parrish doesn’t move or take his eyes off the sheriff, Melissa goes over and grabs Dr Geyer’s wrist. “I need you to try your best to ignore the flaming deputy in the corner. That’s Parrish, only not exactly. Just help me focus on Sheriff Stilinski.”

Aside from an uneasy look at Parrish, Dr Geyer does. After washing his hands and applying gloves, he immediately starts examining the sheriff, and she gives him the vital stats and medical history.

“It’d be helpful if we knew what exactly happened,” Dr Geyer wearily informs her.

“Okay.”

Taking a deep breath, she gets herself to smile as she goes over to Parrish.

Cold orange eyes assess her.

“We can help him better if we know what happened. Can you tell us?”

“A human with an axe attacked him.”

She doesn’t particularly want to ask, but- “What happened to the human with the axe?”

“He ran.”

“Is the arm the only place the sheriff was hit?”

“Yes.”

“The first aid- What exactly was done, and who did it?”

He lays out the proper procedure. “I did.”

“How did you know what to do?”

“Jordan Parrish learned first aid for regular and combat situations. What he knows, I know.”

After a moment of inward debate, she decides to ask, “Was it you or Jordan Parrish who did it?”

“Me.”

“I don’t supposed you’d let him come back?”

“Help the doctor with treating Sheriff Stilinski,” he orders.

“Okay, I won’t ask that again. I am helping by trying to get as much information as I can. Tell me about this human.”

“Male, Caucasian, twenty-nine. Jacob Quill. He was growing wolfsbane in his basement and selling it to people who have an interest in seeing the supernatural poisoned.”

“Was he hurt?”

“Unknown.”

“Thank you. That’s all I need to know for right now. Would you like to sit down?”

He doesn’t bother to dignify this with a response.

Picking up the phone, she calls the station and relays what’s going on.

“Okay,” Dr Geyer says. “I’ve got him stabilised, and I was able to use dissolvable stitches. There’s going to be some nasty scarring, but there isn’t any nerve damage. He won’t need physical therapy. All things considered, he’s very lucky. Now, do we move him to recovery, or does he stay here?”

Glancing at Parrish, she answers, “He’ll stay here for now. Some deputies are coming over. They’ll guard the room.”

The hellhound’s inhuman voice coldly demands, “Which deputies?”

When she tells him, he nods.

“You know them?”

“Jordan Parrish does. They share his loyalty to Sheriff Stilinski.”

Going back to Dr Geyer, she quietly says, “You have other patients. Get back to them. I’ll stay with the sheriff until the deputies come.” At his wary look at Parrish, she adds, “He won’t hurt me. All he cares about right now is protecting Sheriff Stilinski.”

“I feel no care. Protecting Sheriff Stilinski is necessary.”

“Okay, you are not helping,” she snaps. “As creepy as it is, be quiet unless you’re directly spoken to.”

She turns back to Dr Geyer. “Believe me, I get your uneasiness to leave, but you have other patients, some of them worse off than the sheriff, who need your help. You have a surgery in thirty minutes. I promise, he’s not going to hurt me or anyone else here. Whether he cares or not, the hellhound does have his own sort of morality or code or whatever. His priority right now is ensuring the sheriff’s safety. I’m hoping he’ll let Deputy Parrish come back soon.”

…

After Dr Geyer leaves, she sits down and holds Sheriff Stilinski’s hand.

When she looks over, Parrish or, rather, the hellhound is watching them.

“Do you care about anyone? Lydia Martin?”

“No. Jordan Parrish cares about Lydia Martin. They are friends. Protecting the banshee is part of the reason I came here.”

“But you don’t have to care about her to protect her?”

“No.”

“What made you take over? Deputy Parrish- did the axeman try to hurt him? I know that he could have done the first aid himself and gotten the sheriff here.”

“There are times it is necessary to protect Jordan Parrish.”

“What were you protecting him from this time?”

“Himself.”

The apprehension grows. “What does that mean?”

There’s a knock on the door, and a deputy comes in. “Parrish?”

Upon seeing it’s not Parrish, the deputy sighs and bluntly declares, “I don’t like you.”  Holding up a bag, the deputy continues, “I brought some clothes for when he comes back. Nurse McCall, could we talk to you outside for a minute?”

…

After checking the sheriff’s vitals and finding they’ve steadily improved, she sits back down and looks over to where the hellhound is still standing in the exact same spot.

“Back to our conversation. What did you mean you needed to protect Deputy Parrish from himself?”

About a minute later, she asks, “Did you hear me?”

Something about the way he’s looking at her tells her he’s considering whether she’s trustworthy or not.

“I’m like that deputy out there. I like Jordan Parrish. I tolerate you as long as you aren’t a threat to innocent humans and that you give him back to us in a reasonable time frame.”

“He dreams about kneeling for him.”

Even after she's long come to the weary conclusion that the confusion now permeating her life is never going to end, she still finds herself surprised at how utterly nonsensical some of the turns can take. It'd be better not to even engage, she knows, but still- “Okay. Jordan Parrish dreams about kneeling for Sheriff Stilinski?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

If this weren’t all so unnerving, she’d find it funny the way he shrugs and looks at her as if to say, ‘I do not compute human behaviour.’

“And- you think this is bad?”

“No. Simply disappointing. Even for the banshee, I would not kneel.”

“Um, sometimes, humans have dreams that don’t- What I mean is, when humans dream, they dream about things that would make no sense when they’re awake. Sometimes, they do things in their dreams that they’d never do, sometimes, that they couldn’t do, in real life.”

“He feels it when he’s awake.”

“Wanting to kneel?”

The hellhound cocks his head slightly. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. He was not the vessel I would have chosen. His caring could put him in danger one day in ways that would not destroy me but might him. All I can do is try to prevent that.”

“Do you care about him?”

“I do not wish him destroyed.”

Feeling her hand being squeezed, she jumps and looks over. “Hey, stranger. Welcome back.”

“Do I even want to ask,” he groans.

“Sheriff? Melissa- sorry, Nurse McCall?”

They look over, and she’s incredibly relieved to see Jordan Parrish’s confused face taking in the scene. “Are you okay, sir? What did I do? Where’s Quill?”

Jumping up, she quickly assures him, “You brought Sheriff Stilinski here, and he’s going to be fine. Don’t worry about Quill. He’s alive, and the others are looking for him. After what he did, they’ll find him.”

He looks past her, and she turns to see the sheriff smiling at him. “Thanks, Parrish.”

“I didn’t bring you here. Or- it was the hellhound.”

“All the same.”

There’s a knock, and the deputy from earlier pops in. “Parrish?”

“Hey, Chang.”

“Oh, good, you’re back. Here’s some clothes. Sheriff, good to see you back, too. We’ve got Quill in cell eight.”

“Good. Thank you, Chang.”

“Sorry if I did anything while I was-”

“You didn’t. I just don’t like it when the other you is around,” Deputy Chang says. “That guy is a jerk.”

Melissa can sympathise a little with Parrish, but she definitely can’t argue with the assessment about his other side.

Deputy Chang slips back out, and taking the clothes, Parrish goes into the bathroom.

When he comes back, he looks pensive.

“Hey,” the sheriff says. Holding his non-injured arm up, he stretches out his hand.

Looking uncharacteristically hesitant, Parrish touches the hand.

Wrapping his fingers properly around the hand, Sheriff Stilinski says, “You did good today, deputy.”

Squeezing, Parrish gives a slight smile and nod as he withdraws.

Oh, Melissa realises, with a sense of fondness and pity. It suddenly hits her in what context human Jordan Parrish might want to be on his knees, and aside from not wanting to know the private dreams of other people, poor Parrish doesn’t deserve to have anyone he, not the hellhound, hadn’t made the decision to tell knowing.

…

After establishing the hellhound isn’t going to be around, Dr Geyer insists on keeping Sheriff Stilinski for two days.

Melissa stops by to talk to him when she can, and she manages to get a fairly clear picture of what Parrish’s life was like before he came to Beacon Hills.

When he comes to take the sheriff home, she pulls him into an empty room. “Um, this- this isn’t particularly something I want to ask.”

Looking at her with kind, curious eyes, he responds, “What is it?"

“Do you think I could maybe talk to the other you? We were sort of in the middle of a conversation when the sheriff woke up. And I’m not trying to hide anything from you, but it was private in nature, and I’m not sure I have the right to tell you about it.”

Guilt hits her.

She knows private information about him, now, and he probably deserves to know she knows. He absolutely doesn’t deserve to have her talk about said private information with his other side without his knowledge and consent.

He sighs. “Sure. Could you please just try to make sure he keeps my shirt on? I didn’t bring a spare, and if it weren’t for it literally not being my fault, Stilinski would have already fired me for dress code violations alone.”

Laughing, she nods.

Closing his eyes, he takes a breath, and when the eyes open, they’re orange and cold.

“I wanted to talk to you about what you did for the sheriff. And for Deputy Parrish.”

He nods.

“I know the army meant he couldn’t be completely open about who all he might like and how he might like them. Things are different here. People here are more likely to fear and despise him because of you, and hearing what I just said, I’m aware that could have been said much more diplomatically, than because of that. I promise you, most of them won’t care. And I can’t say whether the sheriff would return his feelings or not, but he wouldn’t break his heart or take his job over it. He’d be kind either way.”

“That’s what you were worried about, wasn’t it,” she continues. “You were worried his feelings would become obvious if you let him handle the situation?”

“Yes.” An expression she’s not sure how to read crosses his face. “Perhaps, knowing what he knows makes everything appear obvious to me. The fact others apparently have not deduced it already is surprising.”

“But you’re one of the ones who doesn’t approve?”

“Outside of my duties, Jordan Parrish can do as he likes. I will only step in if I believe he is a threat to himself.”

“Fair enough. If you want my advice, let him handle situations like what happened two days ago on his own. I’m not saying there might not be some negative emotional fallout, but he can handle himself.”

“Very well.”

“The sheriff is a good man. He was a good husband,” she feels compelled to add.

“The banshee desired him.”

Annoyed, she asks, “And she’s more suitable because she’s a girl?”

Frankly, she’d rather any of the deputies have a crush on their middle-aged boss than on an eighteen-year-old girl, but even if Lydia were older, her being a woman doesn’t make her automatically the better choice for the male ones, just like being a man wouldn’t make the sheriff automatically a better choice for any of the female ones.

“No. The banshee is a banshee. The sheriff is a human. Banshees are far superior to humans.”

“You say as you’re talking to a human,” she mutters.

“It would be easier to protect her if such a relationship developed. If not for him being my vessel, I would not waste so much time and energy protecting a human.”

“Just so we’re clear, you’re going to be a little less overprotective in the future, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then, please,” she says through not quite-gritted teeth, “give Deputy Parrish back.”

The eyes close, reopen, and green eyes study her.

“Thank you,” she says.

“No problem. Is the sheriff doing okay? I’ve got his fridge stocked. Some of the food, Stiles would approve of, and some of it- well, Stiles is in another town, and his dad isn’t. So, I’m not going to take any chances with the Stilinski who’s actually within striking distance.”

She laughs. “Sensible strategy, deputy.”

He grins.

“He’s doing fine. Just try to keep him at his desk for a week or two.”

“Could I get that in your handwriting?”

“Already done. Don’t worry, I’ll try to pop around the station every few days to make sure he’s being smart and badger him if he isn’t.”

They get to the room. “Can you get him out by yourself? I have an appointment in the paediatric ward.”

“Yeah, no problem.” When she starts to walk away, however, he gently touches her arm. “Oh, and um- Thank you, Ms McCall. For dealing with the other me and for always looking out for the sheriff. This whole town is lucky to have you, but him especially.”

“No problem, sweetheart,” she says. “Take care.”  


End file.
